The Other Boy
by Dreamweaver'sQuill
Summary: Where at one end, Harry Potter had forever been marked by tragedy and an overwhelming and dark destiny, another boy was inadvertently cursed to a life of pain and solitude by Voldemort's followers. Frank and Alice Longbottom thought the darkness finally dissipated, and as such were caught unawares by the terrible tragedy that would leave an everlasting mark on their family.


Frank didn't know how to feel about it.

On one hand, after years of absolute terror, paranoia, and brutal violence, years of disappearances, tortures and deaths, of hard work and sleepless nights, of stress and musings of a bleak future, or the possibility of no future at all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had finally fallen. On the other hand, his downfall had come at a price too horrible to ever be justified; the murders of their friends and allies, the Potters, two of the most loyal, brave and nicest people he had ever had the fortune to fight beside.

Frank, walking through the deserted street called Princes Parade beside the sea, where he had come to investigate a tip-off, wondered like many others how extraordinary little Harry Potter would've had to be, for a mere toddler to have achieved something that had given even Albus Dumbledore and his entire Order a run for their money. In spite of himself, however regretful he felt that young James and Lily Potter had to have paid their lives for it, a part of him was greatly relieved at the thought that he would no longer have to worry about young Neville's safety.

He and his wife Alice were Aurors for the Ministry of Magic in Britain; it was their sworn duty to catch Dark Wizards and Witches, and thus knew the full extent of the damage and desolation He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his loyal band of followers, the Death Eaters had caused. He had risen to power almost overnight and no one knew of his past, nor where he came from, which made it nearly impossible to apprehend him. If a man could terrorize a society to such an extent that people feared even to speak his name, gathering intelligence on him was going to be nearly impossible.

Frank being a Pureblood and having shown such promise during his years at Hogwarts and Auror office, that some of the Death Eaters, hooded and masked, had cornered him leaving the Ministry one night during his third year of Auror training, and only with the intervention of his fellow trainees, had he succeeded in evading capture. One of the trainees that had come to his aid, was none other than Alice Macmillan, a Ravenclaw from the year above him during his time at Hogwarts, whom he hadn't known too closely while at school.

Desperate to do something significant against the rising hysteria and panic, and no longer able to trust the leadership under the reign of two separate Ministers no less, Frank and Alice joined the unauthorized organization, the Order of the Phoenix at the behest of his gifted senior Alastor Moody to fight under his old headmaster, the wise, if slightly eccentric, Dumbledore. This proved to have been a worthy gamble, as with his guidance, the Order was able to not only recruit but rescue many would-be victims that were in egregious peril or forced to work under He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

The Death Eaters had called upon him two more times, the final incident with Voldemort himself attending shortly after his wedding to Alice, (with whom he had grown close during their time at the Ministry and subsequently within the Order) and once again, he was able to thwart them with the help of Edgar Bones, Emmeline Vance and his uncle Edmund, who helped Frank and Alice escape, regrettably at the cost of his own life. Edmund had always been close to his nephew, whom he doted on and had immense pride in, and was an excellent duelist in his youth. It was stories of his valour that had inspired Frank to become an Auror and Frank never quite got over his death, driving him to be more forceful and reckless in his pursuit of You-Know-Who's supporters.

The birth of their son however, changed everything, and had awoken him to an emotion he had thus far been foreign to; fear. Realizing that he now was responsible for his son's safety as much as his wife's, who was still weak from the birth, he took a temporary break from active duty in order to better protect his family and went into hiding at the behest of Dumbledore.

It was during this period that he had heard the devastating news of You-Know-Who's demise at the hands of Harry, and had immediately gone in to the office to confirm it's authenticity. Frank had not known them too closely personally, but they were often the most vocal and cheerful in the Order meetings he attended with them, despite their own rather bleak circumstances.

He had been immediately ordered into the field along with every single able Auror in his department, to capture the Death Eaters, who far from surrendering, were still resisting arrest or else fleeing the country. With the largest, most immediate threat dissipated, Frank accepted his assignments along with the many others who had been called back from their leaves of absence (with the exception of his wife). He had sorely missed the action and bringing the monsters to justice awarded him immense satisfaction.

One of these assignments was what had brought him here in this misty deserted street, which was almost comically indicative of underhanded dealings secretly going on. The streets were empty and dark, with most of the lamps having gone out or simply uprooted, the air was damp and foggy, and the buildings looked incredibly derelict, with many windows boarded and the bricks weather-worn and chipped. The signboard of a long-forgotten pub hung loosely from one end, creaking slightly as it swung from the occasional gust. There was always an eerie feeling in places that reeked of neglect, that made you feel as if a pair of unseen eyes were secretly gazing upon you, making the back of his neck prickle, despite looking like there was no life to be found for miles around.

Frank was expecting to meet his informant here, who, in a turn of fortune, seemed to long last have dug up important information regarding a Pureblood family. They had openly declared for You-Know-Who during the War and were currently evading capture, leaving mangled or dead bodies of Magical Law Enforcement squad members and Aurors in their wake. It was just like him to choose a place as forlorn as this, for fear of being seen in company of Ministry folk. Being seen in the company of ministry wizards would scare off his brand of potential 'clientele'.

Peering around corners and down dark alley ways littered with crumpled newspapers and the occasional stray cat, Frank lit his wand. After his fourth attempt, near an abandoned three-storey building that had glass from most of its windows missing, a great billowing puff of green smoke signaled his quarry's presence.

"Do tell me something, Fletcher," said Frank in a half-amused voice. "Are you part-bat? What is your aversion to a little bit of light?"

"Light's just fine from where I'm standin'" came the gruff reply. Mundungus Fletcher skulked forward a little, but still holding back as if the light from Frank's wand might burn him.

"Y-you came alone, then, did ya?" he glanced shiftily around what little of the street he could glimpse behind Frank, as if expecting a battalion of Aurors waiting to swoop upon him.

"Don't worry, we don't usually commence sting operations to arrest small-time stolen broomstick peddlers," said Frank in the same amused voice. "Calm down, you look like your heart's about to stop. This isn't exactly our first meeting."

"Dangerous times, to go lurking abou' on one's own, innit?" said Mundungus taking a shaky nervous drag on his pipe. His eyes were still darting all over suspiciously. Frank silently contemplated what it must be like to lead a life as unglamorous and shifty as someone of Mundungus Fletcher's talents. It would have to be second-nature to always look over your shoulder, to never be able to comfortably settle in one place too long, drowned in secrecy and deception.

"I'm a big boy, I can handle myself. Truth be told, Moody wanted me to wait for him, but he was running a little late on his other...uh, _appointment_, and you aren't really the most reliable man I know."

At the mention of Moody's name, Mundungus convulsed so hard it looked like he was having a fit.

"Ah, well, business waits for no one, do it?" said Mundungus in a voice that was probably meant to sound important. "Time is galleons, Frankie."

"Settle down, Fletcher, Moody doesn't know where I've come," said Frank laughing. "You're in a right state, you are. Well, why don't we get down to it, if you're in such a hurry?" But his words didn't change the crook's demeanor in the slightest. He kept shooting glances all over the alley and the street beyond, within the broken windows, as if waiting for a ghost to appear.

The moon peered out from behind some wispy clouds, and the alley was illuminated a little more, so that Frank could clearly see the alley and his guest a little more clearly. Fletcher's eyes were bloodshot, and he looked, if it was possible, more disheveled than he had ever been before, which Frank had not thought possible. There was a small gash under his right cheek.

"Blimey, Fletcher, what did you get yourself into?" said Frank aghast. "Don't tell me you've upgraded to home invasions now!"

"F-frankie...S'sorry mate...," he mumbled in a hoarse whisper.

"You're making no sense. What're you on about?"

"I 'ad...'ad no choice, mate..." he looked fit to cry. "They...they..."

But something was wrong. He had never seen him this tense before. He was never the most confident in official company, but this time he was agitated out of his wits. Frank instinctively gripped his wand tighter and peered around himself for the first time. He shone his wand through the windows. He heard a floorboard creak, but whether it was the delinquency that made it or someone moving a level above, he couldn't be sure.

There was a second creak.

"No... you sonuvva..."  
He whirled around, mid-word, and slashed his wand through the air. Two silver Wolverines burst out of his wand tip. There was a blast of wood and a jet of blue light missed his shoulder by an inch, accompanied by splintered wood.

A second burst of red light shot out from the upper window again, half of which had been blasted off, but Frank had already rolled on the ground and tried to scramble around the corner.

"Oh, how he skitters!" came a woman's vicious voice. "You won't get away, you filthy little maggot..._Stupefy!"_

Frank cast a shield charm and the hex ricocheted towards Mundungus, who leapt out of the way with a yelp.

"'M sorry, 'M sorry," he yelled, almost in desperation. "They was going to kill me, they was, they was g-"

"You're a backstabbing swine, Fletcher," growled Frank, as he heard two loud _cracks_ behind him.

"Confringo!" he yelled pointing at the door of the building across the street from him, and dashed towards it, deflecting the curses flying around him. He knew that by the time his messages reached the Order and his department, this would all be over, but he had to try. He had to keep them occupied until someone got here, that was their best chance to finally capture them.

"Where is he? Where has he gone?" came the woman's desperate shrieks. "If you let him get away..."

"He's in there, Dolph's gone in after him!" came an excited, youthful voice.

She let out a mad cackle. "We've got him! WE'VE GOT HIM! _Protego Apparatum!"_

Frank cursed under his breath as he ran up the stairs and crashed through the closest door out of the four on the first landing, his mind racing. He had known Mundungus' information tonight would have brought him closer to capturing them than anyone had ever managed, if only he had known how close!

Still, he had faced worse odds before, and this time it was only three or four of them, yet it was the last member of the quartet that the back of his mind was nagging him about. The silhouette and straw-coloured hair had seemed awfully familiar... but, no, it was absurd, it couldn't be who was coming to mind...

Being an Auror tended to make people second-guess everything, to constantly look over their shoulders, and suspect everyone, though he had to admit, it was a surefire way to remain an Auror and he much preferred not get demoted, say, to a corpse.

The room had a single bed with a large stain on it, a broken tv with missing dials set in one corner, and an old-fashioned wardrobe in the other. The wallpaper was chipped and peeling, and thin see-through curtains that were badly moth-eaten fluttered feebly against the window. Since the Death eaters were coming in from the front, that left only two options; to fight his way out, or to escape via the roof onto the building next door.

He heard the unmistakable sound of someone thudding up the staircase behind him and quickly cast the Repairing Charm on the wardrobe. The door burst open and a thin, dark haired man hurried in, his wand lit, pointing at the wardrobe.

"Ho ho, Auror training isn't what it used to be, " he said as he cautiously approached the wardrobe, the door of which hadn't entirely closed. "Zero marks for concealment, Longbottom. Your reputation seems greater than your capability."

He jerked the door wildly open only to see a couple of coats hanging next to the rest of the unoccupied wire hangers and was blasted in the back with a jinx of such force that he was thrown bodily out of the glass window, disappearing out of sight.

Backing out of the room again with the Disillusionment charm wearing off, he deflected the jinxes flying at him with his wand without looking at the other two dashing up the stairs and started climbing upward himself. Tearing up the second landing, he ran on, until he found the end of the staircase completely obstructed by fallen debris.

He considered blasting the debris away, but he wasn't sure if the building was structurally sound enough to handle it without collapsing in on itself. With the next floor right above him, he turned around and flicked his wand at the metal railing, splitting it in half, so that part of it fell forward, just enough for him to jump up and grab it.

Inwardly lamenting at his reduced physical strength, he started pulling himself up with some effort, but before he could reach high enough to use his feet, a curse came flying through the gap in-between the stairs and knocked the railing clean off, Frank along with it. Bellatrix cackled madly at her own success from below, as Frank tumbled backward down the stairs, landing crumpled on the ground. He had barely regained his bearings when a kick came flying out and connected with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him again.

"Should have remained in hiding, Longbottom," growled the unmistakable voice of Rodolphus Lestrange looking happy at having cornered him. "You aren't going to enjoy this very much- though I can't make the same promise about my wife."

"Impedimenta!" thought Frank with all his will, pointing his wand at him, and he was blasted back into the wall, though with not as much force as Frank had intended; the pain was clearly hindering his concentration. "No need to boast of it, Lestrange. _Everyone _knows dear Bella doesn't need her husband for that!" he grimaced.

Rodolphus let out a roar of fury slashing his wand wildly in the air.  
_  
Good _thought Frank shielding himself against his wild 's exactly what he needed, for him to be too emotional to think clearly and he seemed to have succeeded.

"Don't let him get to you, dear!" drawled Bellatrix rushing up the staircase herself. "Your childish taunts won't save you now, Frankie! You WILL give us what we need." There was a hunger, a desperation in her voice, as though she was dying, and Frank held the cure to her ailment. As she appeared at the foot of the stairs behind him, the glint in her eye was quite manic. She was a beautiful woman, yet somehow her beauty couldn't get through the raw emotion that was dominating her face.

She raised her wand, just as Frank raised his, and both their spells collided and ricocheted off each other at the same time, though something else caught Frank by his feet. Looking down, he saw the metal railings coiled around his feet like snakes; Rodolphus had clearly managed to calm-down and free himself at his wife's appearance and had cast his spell simultaneously.

"Gotcha!" snarled Bellatrix in triumph, but the fight had far from gone from Frank's body; taking advantage of the metal binding his feet, he let himself fall backward just as Bellatrix shot a Full-Body Bind curse at him. The metal railing cut painfully into his legs, though her spell missed and hit her husband behind him.

"Confringo!" he said in desperation, pointing towards the floor under him and then thought "Diffindo!" wand pointed towards the railing. The railing snapped and Frank fell through the hole he had created in the floor, falling two stories below to the ground just as Bellatrix reached the top step and cast another curse at him; the spell caught his right arm as he fell back, slicing it open.

His eyes went dark with the force of the impact, his ears ringing uncontrollably. Disoriented, bleeding and winded, he struggled to move, to drag himself out of the building. Any moment now, Bellatrix would free her husband and appear in the stairway to rain curses down on him. He had to get out and hide somewhere until Moody or the Order got there. He dragged himself along the floor in the direction of the breeze, the world slowly starting to silhouette into view.

Just as his hand slapped onto the rough ground right outside the threshold, hope flared in his heart, against reason. He had somehow managed to get out of this alive. Even he couldn't believe his own luck. But then, as vision joined hope, his heart sank into his stomach. The straw-haired boy his brain told him couldn't possibly have been the fourth person he had forgotten was there, was standing on the pavement, his wand pointing right at Frank's face.

There wasn't a hint of trepidation on the face he had seen many a-times, dutifully bringing his father lunch, or sitting timidly beside his mother in a public Wizengamot trial. "Crucio," he said coolly, and after a few moments of excruciating, unending pain, darkness once again engulfed him, and Frank struggled no more.


End file.
